


Art Block

by QueenoftheHobbits



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gender Neutral, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 04:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheHobbits/pseuds/QueenoftheHobbits
Summary: Requested by @fandom-is-for-vendetta:  Hey, I'm sorry, it's me again. I do have a headcanon about Markus [Detroit: Become Human] that in his free time whenever he isn't busy with important Jericho business, he'll spend his time to painting. Can you write a one shot about the reader inspiring Markus while he's having artist block?





	Art Block

Markus was more than just a leader, a hero of a peaceful revolution, he was also an artist. Oil paints and canvases littered the home he know shared with you, some of them were dark representations of fears, new feelings that scared him, memories of the cruelty he’d seen and some were sweeter. Inspired by the sweetness of life, of sunsets, sunrises, the beauty of a rainy night. But when Markus’ inspiration rain dry, when he found a block on his creativity, he drew you. 

“Sit however’s comfortable.” You found yourself once again posing for him, his art block strong as ever. You never minded, you could watch TV while he did it or read a book. You were still found of paper books even though they were rather outdated.

“You sure? You don’t want me to pose a certain way?”

“Just relax.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” You take his advice, pulling the book you’d been reading into your lap, legs folded underneath you and began reading. You knew that Markus could draw you quickly if he wanted to, he had the precision only found in androids after all. But you also knew that with his deviancy he liked taking time, liked drawing things in his  _style_ , not how they were before him in a literal sense, but how he saw them, felt them. Colours changed, the way bodies were draw, the expression, it all took more time because it was art not just a replica of what he saw in front of him. 

“Thank you...for doing this.”

“You know i’m always happy to be your muse, Markus. I love your paintings and I’m always flattered when you want to paint me...I love you.” Sometimes you knew Markus didn’t quite understand just how much things like this meant to you, he might have been an older deviant, but feelings, empathy, it was complicated, even most humans found it confusing. You tried your best to explain to him how much individual acts and behaviours meant to you, you knew he always catalogued it, kept it as a memory, a reminder.

“I love you too.” 

You returned to your book, every now and then glancing up at him to watch him paint. The sure strokes of the brush against canvas, the new found habit he had of biting his bottom lip when thinking about something, the intense frown of concentration. Watching him work always took your breath away, it was another reason why you loved posing for him, you got to see him work on something he truly loved.

 


End file.
